


Electric Temple

by Phritzie



Series: Drinking Buddies [6]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Jousting, Miscommunication, Multi, Non-alcoholic Beverages, Power Imbalance, Soul Bond, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 03:58:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13755831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phritzie/pseuds/Phritzie
Summary: Don't be such a holy fool. Zaros returns to what remains of Senntisten for a status report. Felix gets bad news, handles it super well (not really).





	Electric Temple

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes around the table again. To those playing along at home, here Zaros sounds like bass-boosted Tim Curry on about a gallon of sulfur hexafluoride. Significantly deeper than the Anthony Hopkins-esque VO.

Too soon they arrived.

Though the activity of the dig site continued by torch and lamplight, it was dark. Felix chose her footing on the rubble of the descending hillside carefully. Sliske dispensed with their shadow walk, explaining that Zaros would see through it easily as she dropped off the trail into an excavated pit.

The winch was still there. She thought about all the odd methods they had tried to keep Azzanadra's months-old building project secret. Felix had since picked up an amulet capable of transporting her directly into the temple, although it wasn't with her at present.  _I wonder if he'll ever build a ladder._  
  
Shuffling her boots at some fill dirt heaped to the side of a deep trench, she took a fortifying breath.  
  
"Nervous?" He had snuck up on her again, bent low enough to tickle her ear.  
  
_Child_. Felix swatted him away. "Like you aren't. I'm under his protection, remember? Whatever that entails.  _You_ were excommunicated." She turned and Sliske wasn't even looking at her, instead taking in the ruins around them neutrally and tapping the curved spikes on his chin.  
  
"It has crossed my mind that there could be conflict," he muttered, eyes narrow.  
  
"I'm just wondering whether I should go in alone." A worker called a greeting to them from across the field, too far away to identify in the orange glow of the torch planted beside them. She waved back, pasting on a false smile. _Please pay no attention to the strange giant..._

He stepped away to peer into the hole to the temple. "And what shall I do while you negotiate, oh diplomat?"

An evening breeze made Felix cross her arms, head down as she glared up at him. "I don't know. Wait here? Knit me a shadow scarf?" She spoke a little louder and he met her eyes finally. "What if he's unwilling to forgive your transgressions?"  
  
"How sweet of you to worry," Sliske chuckled, regarding her with knowing eyes. "But that's not our goal, is it? Besides... he's more capricious than he looks."

 

* * *

 

His lord returned on the evening of a beautiful sunset.

Azzanadra slipped back into the temple as the horizon bled away, shedding the mirage of Dr. Nabanik for his true form and garments. It was good to stretch his legs occasionally, to spend a peaceful moment on the surface and remind himself that he was not a prisoner here, but as he passed the main chamber he nearly stumbled at the sight of the god drifting toward him across the tiles that formed his symbol.

Zaros breezed to a stop near enough to touch. "Greetings, Azzanadra." His disembodied voice swathed the mahjarrat in liquid gold. He did all he could to collect himself before it became painfully obvious. "I hope I did not startle you."

His bow was deep enough to be flattery, silk stole brushing the floor. "My lord, I am always pleased to see you."

The god bid him to rise with the touch of a gauntlet. "As am I. Report all of what has occurred in my time away."  
  
They went over a few topics. The recent activity of a certain former Zarosian, and more pressing matters concerning Azzanadra's reach in the way of locating the Elder Halls. When asked, he also expressed the difficulty he had been having in keeping up the charade topside, citing the natural curiosity of human archaeologists.

Formalities satisfied Zaros turned away, hovering as he brushed an armored hand idly over his altar.

For some reason, Azzanadra grew anxious at the thought of him leaving so soon.  "Would you stay a while?" he found himself pleading. His robes drifted behind him as he shadowed the god's back. "I have missed your conversation. I have missed you."  
  
But while he didn't answer, Zaros was already taking his place on the dais bearing his throne. It seemed he would be remaining, for the moment.  
  
Adoration moved his feet to just a few paces away. The mahjarrat resisted the urge to kneel, knowing how divorced the gesture would be from the strength of his feelings.  _I must be faultless_ _._  
  
The god's visits were frequent but short. Sometimes, they involved more than cursory instruction and shoptalk.  
  
Zaros spoke quietly. "I desire your attentions, Azzanadra." Parting his robes and brushing aside his long tabard, he continued. "If it would entertain you, I suggest we begin immediately." The gauntlets came off next, but he hardly saw them hit the temple floor.  
  
Rarely, they did this.  
  
Umbral thighs and bared hips, wreathed with clusters of crystal and spined by a single, prominent shard. _Flawless._ Throat dry, Azzanadra responded without thought to the sight, tilting forward.  
  
Intonations he had committed to memory forever but in meaning escaped his comprehension issued from the god's mouthpiece. Jagged and inhospitable, the large crystal glimmered as he spoke change into its protruding half. His words filled the cavern, a resonant sound, and one that rang too beautifully to be shaping his body to Azzanadra's accommodation. To be creating a way to seek pleasure on the lap of his lord.  
  
His head spun as he took it in, the neat curve of its newly defined polish filling him with distracting ideas.  
  
"This should be sufficient." Zaros crooked a finger. "Tend me." Full, expectant, invoking obedience. Like hot knives cutting him to the bone.

Azzanadra mounted the dais. Without hesitation the god reclined, naked hands lacing together behind his purple shroud.  
  
"Please," he whispered, knowing how little the word said but unable to extol every feature seizing him with want. “ _Please_.”

Shedding his outer robe and removing his belt, the mahjarrat flung his gloves away. His knees raised to either side of the throne he had rebuilt himself, locking around wider thighs.

The cold granite missed his notice entirely, but Azzanadra sang inside at the touch of his lord's waiting body. They looked right together, gray and black. _Perfection_.  
  
Their bodies met in the middle, the rigidity of crystal against giving, needy flesh.

"Will you relinquish control?" Zaros demanded, and by all accounts it almost sounded impatient. So near, his mouthpiece.  
  
"It is yours," Azzanadra affirmed, lost, lips parting. "I am yours."  
  
A casual crook of the chin, concealed by cloth but obvious to him.  
  
Lifting a trembling hand, he gripped them together, not even daring to breathe too loudly. The smooth formation warmed as he stroked along its glassy length. Desirous and mouth agape, Azzanadra arched into the sensation, claws flashing as he frotted against him.  
  
"You are enjoying this more than usual." It was as much an observation as it was a question.  
  
_My devotion to you will never die_.

"Yes," he panted, and in the reflection of his lord's faceplate he saw three sets of hooded, violet eyes. Their gazes glowed together. "Indescribably."  
  
Perhaps the years had been long and his imagination was well developed, because Azzanadra could have sworn his lord was smiling as he spoke. "Do your best."  
  
Swallowing, he obeyed.

 

* * *

 

In the southeastern corner of the Kharidian desert, far below the sands, a face upturned in a perpetual scowl received a message.

A short, very terse message. Clear in its meaning and demanding immediate action.

It wouldn't do to keep her waiting. In an instant the ground of the overworld split in four neat rows, spanning miles. Trillions of tiny grains shifted into the void, drawn by gravity to fill the empty space. Between the rushing noise of sand, rock, and loosely rooted cacti flowing into the chasm, a low tone like the droning of a Dorgeshuun power installation emerged, growing in volume until it drowned out the downpour.

From the very center emerged a monolith. It rose into the sky in a thin spire, shooting ever taller. After several minutes of vertical climb it slowed to a stop at many hundred meters of height.

At the very tip, shining brightly in the night sky; an orb of light.

A beacon.

 

* * *

 

It was somewhere between the heavy knot of bliss bending his spine and the dirty illustrations spilling from his tongue like curses that Zaros took pity on him. He was at the heels of release, and his lord seemed to be equally absorbed.

Easing fingers into Azzanadra's mouth mid-sentence, the glint of large crystals on angular knuckles making his vision undependable, the god shifted until his other hand was firmly cradling the mahjarrat's back.

"Allow me." He rose with him as Zaros flexed, black thighs thrusting shallowly. Each new drag crashed through him in waves of delight. Moaning around sharp, shadowed digits, he tried to resist the temptation to be overly wanton. _I must be faultless._  
  
The god noticed. "Azzanadra."

_Shit._

“Do not deny me.”  
  
That was really all it took.  
  
Pitching back, knees turned to stone and chest heaving with the force of each breath, Azzanadra sucked at brutal fingertips as they withdrew, touching to his face and chin. They dragged wetly across his lips, teasing, encouraging.  
  
"Zaros." His mouth spoke but his mind was gone, expression slack. Ejaculate coated his hand in hot mercy.  
  
Securing his priest's striped hip effortlessly, the god continued their frottage at a steady pace. Azzanadra landed after some time spent in orbit to the sound of his lord speaking.

"I will enjoy the rest of your body when we have finished," Zaros said magnanimously. "Try to save some of this enthusiasm for that."  
  
_Ah._

Shaking in overstimulation, Azzanadra nodded and reached forward with the hand not pressing their starkly contrasting cocks together to clutch at the wrist thumbing his pointed jawline so tenderly. _Please_ _._  
  
His deep and erebus voice held the biting ring of amusement. "If it is too much, then let go."  
  
_I can't_ _._ "Yes, if it becomes such," Azzanadra agreed. His weakening grip would end it for them; he fought to stay participant. The god was approaching completion, a slight tick in his rhythm, a familiar hum in the air. Soon it would be impossible not to follow. If he could just hold on a little while...

Zaros pulled forward slightly, hand rearranging to guide him to his mouthpiece.

His lips brushed its stiff material as Azzanadra spoke. "I've missed you so much."

Quiet, but heartfelt. It left him unpermitted, a ragged whisper.

The candles on the altar guttered all at once. His lord stiffened. Something wild and hungry inside him reared up to watch.  
  
"Yes, _Azzanadra_." The god came, figure radiating power, and his priest joined him.  
  
Draped over a hard shoulder, he eventually became sensate enough to stand and unseat himself from his lord's broad lap. Zaros let his hands fall away and waited as the mahjarrat retrieved linens from a chest containing articles of worship behind the altar.  
  
Cleaning them was Azzanadra's favorite part. So it was understandable when he froze in confusion, crouched between the legs of his lord and restraining the urge to take up with beasts by licking away his own ejaculate, because the god laid a commanding hand on his toweling one and spoke.  
  
"Reserve your anticipation," Zaros grumbled. "We have guests."

 

* * *

 

Sliske released the rope and landed on the floor with a quiet wumph of his boots.

Felix had descended long before, tucked behind a boulder that must have proven too difficult for bandits to remove. She was starting to hyperventilate a little; he could tell by the way she was shifting from foot to foot, holding her breath and then releasing it in long, silent wooshes that fogged the musty air.

Drawing her back against him, he ignored her faint protest and quickly cataloged the neck of the artificial cave. There did appear to be voices at the end, one particularly deep and irritating.

"That truly is a spectacle I would linger to bask in, but you may want to stay conscious a little longer, my dear." He spoke directly in her ear so as to limit the travel of noise. "Unless you do need to sit this one out?"

"You're a great peptalker," she groused, turning to speak into his neck. "Anyway, contrary to my title, I don't have a high batting record against gods. Or the Mahjarrat. In fact, I have killed exactly zero of them, if Jhallan doesn't count by proxy."

That startled a laugh out of him. He had to bite his lip to stifle it, grinning. "Now, what's this? Who said anything about killing?"

Taking the time to struggle free of his tight embrace, likely easier for her given his tickled moment, Felix faced him with a grim expression. "I need you to understand that your old Zarosian allies are actually pretty decent people, in my opinion. I like them, mostly-- barring some cheap deceits I'm working on getting over."

A beat of silence passed, during which his smile dimmed.  _Well._  His mouth wanted to curl into a snarl but Sliske suppressed it.  _One or two of them are, I_ _suppose_ _._  "I'm aware." He examined her carefully. For all her meager height he couldn't quite tell whether she was leaning into him to be heard better or because his hands had fallen to her back.

Felix shook her head. "I also don't terribly mind Zaros," she continued, watching him. "I sympathize with his struggle."

Inhaling deeply, he gripped her by the shoulders and tried not to cede control to the dark urge to retaliate. _Old habits._ "Unfortunate, but also something I am aware of, given how you were so diligent in restoring him. Do you have a point?" Sliske smiled down at her cruelly, the ridges of each eye lifted in warning. "Are you trying to get me riled up?"

"I'm trying to prepare you for all the shit I'm going to say once we walk in there and my mouth opens," she whispered, stare burning angrily in the low light.

A single torch at the end of the tunnel cast a tan ray past their hiding place, offering meager shadows, but that hardly mattered to either of the beings they expected to encounter.

"You forget that I don't owe you explanations, but nothing about this situation particularly changes how I feel about you. What  _they_  need to know is going to be really dependent on how receptive they are to our little _ceasefire_ , sweetheart," Felix muttered, flapping a hand at his darkly robed chest. "And I don't want to burn every bridge I have."

They were making too much noise. At the very least, His Emptiness was bound to notice them soon, and he could only mask his presence from Azzanadra for so long. 

Then, clarity hit. Her words waved away the red mist of paranoia that had been encroaching on his thoughts.

 _Ah._  Sliske breathed out and let himself fall back against the roughly scooped dirt of the cave wall. "I didn't think you cared."  _How unexpected._  

A dizzying compulsion to kiss her stabbed at him, and he forced it away with a hard swallow.  _No time like all the time, is there, you fool?_

 

* * *

 

She watched as he underwent a few transformations in countenance. Reading him was easier with his soul whispering suggestions of emotion here and there, but his many looks were still as transparent as mud to her. He directed the off-hand statement toward the ceiling, throat moving. After a moment his eyes flicked down to consider her.

His claws dug into her shoulder blades. Felix decided that, fast facts, she needed to cool him down. _And maybe misdirect him a bit, because Gods, what am I doing? Sweetheart, really?_

They were spending too much time together.

She tried to be assertive. "Look, I get that you derive a truly titillating level of enjoyment from banter, but this is not the place." Separating from his touch was difficult, and she pressed his sharp hands meaningfully into the wall behind him. "Just try not to go bananas when I don't come scrambling to your verbal defense, and I'll do my best to be gentle when I scalp you."

Sliske smiled tightly at her and straightened, strangely poised for someone who had been looking at her like prey moments before. He ducked quietly around the wall adjacent to them, and she followed as he crept forward into the crude hallway leading into the largest room of the temple. Slowly, voices came into range, and Felix strained to make out the conversation.

As if sensing her efforts he craned his neck to look back at her. "Don't bother," he whispered. "They know we're here."

A chill went down her spine and Felix focused on evening out her breathing. "Why haven't they done anything, then?" They were close enough to see movement in the shadows from the doorway. She spied a familiar visor.

The mahjarrat paused to shush her and grinned, a wicked slash of teeth. "Modesty."

 

* * *

 

Millennia had passed since Azzanadra was last forced to posture for a political opponent. The Ritual paled in comparison. A small part of him missed savoring the discomfort of a guest, particularly, sweating out Chthonian envoys and their misbehaving colonists. _And then sending them on to bear the praefectus afterward._

A low table, lined up as carefully as he could manage astride the equidistant lines of his lord's cross. Tea, easily boiled in minutes.

Zaros collected himself in the records chamber, citing a need to put space between them.

He managed to find a few dirty cushions. They had belonged to a crew brushing off a small, preserved network of pipes on the far side of the dig site.  _If you can scavenge up parts of my old life,_ he sneered internally,  _then I shall take what I need without hesitation._

Azzanadra selected the best one for himself. They could sit on the floor.

He could hear them shuffling around in the dirt tunnel and rolled his eyes. Observing the altar room critically, he decided it would be suitably welcoming, at least for the World Guardian.

_It's just not the same._

At first he was enraged, of course, delirious at the thought of how near his lord had come to ruin at the hands of that traitor. Now Azzanadra was very much anticipating their arrival, the knowledge that it would likely end with violence simmering in his blood.

It was only right that as his oldest friend he might be the one to scrape Sliske's remains from the ceiling. He ignored the strange twinge brought on by picturing the in-between and pulled on his gloves, robes already in place.

A polite voice rung out into the chamber, speaking the words of ancient, formal pronouncement.

Sliske stepped into view, robed in a dark material, and he blinked disbelievingly at the sight of it's snug, wispy fit.  _Been a while since I've seen him trying to get those to catch on. At least that's refreshing._ His eyes narrowed and Azzanadra opened his mouth to speak.

Felix joined the strayed mahjarrat in the entryway and he faltered.

"Really?" He set the steaming teapot down smartly, folding his arms. _Unbelievable._  She looked comfortable enough, draped in his power. _We left you two alone for what, days?_ And now they were matching outfits.

Zaros emerged, gowned in armor and robes free of hunger-eliciting substances. "So it would appear."

They stood together very briefly, and Azzanadra nodded. He took to his throne, seating himself before raising a gauntlet in invitation to their guests.

 

* * *

 

Felix frowned at their odd reactions to her, shrinking self-consciously. Hopefully they weren't actually privy to the depraved origins of her attire.

Then again... _I didn't notice their whole thing_. A priest and his god. _Who would've thought._

Before them lay a wooden table, polished to a shine and situated attractively within the Zarosian symbol in the center of the temple. It looked inviting enough, save for the oddly hostile seating arrangement.

"Unfortunately this isn't much of a social visit," Sliske said airily, bypassing the ritual of hello and how are you. Instead he swept forward and sat, lounging with an elbow propped on the low surface of the tea table as he helped himself to a cup.

She clamped down on the immediate pain that accompanied his increased distance. He poured as he spoke, eyes flicking back to encourage her forward. "I'm afraid there's a little problem with our dear Felix."

Zaros did not sigh, but he did shift in a way that had a very familiar tinge of exasperation to it. His arms raised and lowered in front of him. "Whatever whimsy has invited you here matters little. If you claim the World Guardian is in danger, then explain yourself."

Sliske smiled secretively. He was going to say something damning if she didn't work to control the conversation, Felix could just feel it. Shaking a hand through her hair, she interrupted him before he could speak, and his shoulders tightened.

He looked back, glowering.

Azzanadra huffed. "Quite mature."

Sliske tried again. "Just-"

"No." The two mahjarrat stared at her incredulously. "You _do not_ have a say in this story. You kidnapped three people, killed one of them, and attacked me. Rights revoked."

Felix took a deep breath and struggled until the tether fell into that line between unbearably magnetic and tolerable.

"This numbskull," she began, gesturing with a wide hand to Sliske's slouched form, "managed to get a piece of his soul into my body, and I need it out. Yesterday."

"That is... a valid occasion to intrude," Zaros muttered. "Very well. How did this come to pass?"

Sliske cut in smoothly, glaring at her from the floor as he took a bracing sip of tea. "Actually, it was by her own actions she was imbued with my essence."

Felix cringed at his word choice, and hers suffered in their power for it. "Because I was trying to escape your _death trap_." Tea to drink sounded heavenly just about then, something to chase down the taste creeping up her throat. "And your _puzzles._ "

Yellow eyes narrow, he beckoned her. "I'm sure they'd love for you to go on about those. Come sit and tell it your way."

Orange candlelight deepened the hue of Azzanadra's gilded robesleeves as he invited her from the opposite side of the table. Felix approached, each weary step due her companion's antics as she sat to his right.

"I'm sorry we snuck in." She ignored the scoff at her left. " _I_  was worried about a confrontation. Essentially, I touched something I shouldn't have." Her hands indicated her chest briefly. "And now he claims I contain some of his soul. Honestly, I've felt a lot of pain before. But this is different; I'm physically tethered."

"If you are certain of your condition." Azzanadra poured her tea and nudged it across the table with a stern finger. "We may be able to aid you."

When she looked inside it was a dark, muddied green. Felix took a careful sip and almost wretched. She set it down and tried not to cough. _Auch. So salty._

The Empty Lord's featureless, glowing face cast a few shimmering diamonds on the floor as light reflected off of its metallic surface. "I sense you are correct, Azzanadra." He stiffened strangely at being named, and she suppressed her curiosity. "It should not be irreversible. There is time to undo your mistake."

"Time?" Sliske clinked his cup against Felix's and then knocked the foul drink back like water. "I wasn't aware of a time limit. Though it would explain her worsening mood." He replaced his empty cup on the table expectantly, tinkling the side with a claw. "Well? Will you do anything, or am I to anticipate more of the usual?"

 _Gods._ Almost reflexively she elbowed him. "I think what he means is 'thanks for hearing us out.'" Dark fingers pinched her thigh and she flinched, doing her damndest to ignore the stares it earned her. She presented the god with her most practiced smile and prayed. "If you can help me, I would appreciate it."

"Yes, I have heard enough." Zaros rose and drifted to Azzanadra's side, addressing him gently as he stood. "You will retain Sliske while I determine a solution to what has afflicted the World Guardian."

The red-robed mahjarrat's responding frown, creased with contempt and only serving to highlight the angry violet of his eyes, did not encourage confidence in Felix that they would visit well.

She chanced a look back at them as they rounded an exit into the temple's periphary, and Sliske winked.

_Don't screw it up, jackass._

Zaros placed a hand at her back when her footsteps grew labored. For a very short second she imagined what he must be thinking, hovering overhead as she walked. They traveled along a narrow corridor into a new chamber, and then another.

His words on Freneskae still resonated with her pretty strongly. " _You are important. You must be kept safe."_ She could remember the feeling of his essence hitching a ride in her skull, alien but familiar.

Felix posed a question as they moved farther away, testing the waters. "Were you keeping any tabs on me the past few weeks?"

"There were efforts made to maintain you, now and again." It sounded like an affirmative to her, but he went on. "Not as often as needed it would seem."

 

* * *

 

They had a leak somewhere nearby and it was awfully punctual, a steady drip that fell into the pool of its sisters.

"You could at least say hello."

Nothing. Azzanadra glared at him from across the table.

So he was getting the five star silent treatment, but Sliske pressed on, searching. "I appreciate the weaponized hospitality. Classic, very you."

They used to do this often. Not to each other, of course. He sized up the paler mahjarrat quietly. A little chink in the armor. Maybe one or two raw nerves.  _Easily undone, my friend. You're plenty susceptible._

"It may be years until we can see each other again," Sliske pouted. "If ever."

His voice was pure acid. "I'm glad you understand the severity of the situation."

So utterly dull, this swing to anger. Whatever happened to his laxer sense of moral objectivity, no harm no foul? 

Finishing his tea with a sigh, Sliske pushed it back his way and Azzanadra reluctantly filled it, antagonized by the simple task.

"You ought to drink with me at least." Quick fingers stole the pot away, sloshing the contents around to gauge how much was left before re-purposing Felix's abandoned cup. He filled it to the brim and pushed the tea forward with a prim smile.

Hand steady and gazing as a raptor might at trout, Azzanadra raised the cup to his lips and drained it.

 

* * *

 

After a bit of shy protestation she showed him the scar, and the markings. He was a little miffed by the severity of her bruising. "I was not aware humans could heal so slowly."

Zaros watched her press the seam of the robe together where she had torn it, mouth tight. The cloth repaired after some time, whole for the most part. There was an inept irregularity to it that bothered him.

Raising a hand over her torso, in less than a moment her robes were solid, a true fabrication of shadows and no longer air light. She shot him a look.

The god did not know whether it was curiosity or insult that lay there, and so he answered both, doing his best to shrug. "I am more practiced."

"It's been about a week," the guardian said. Her body tracked to and fro, a slow and constant struggle. "What improvements I've made in that time are pretty bare, I'll admit. At least I'm not concussed anymore. I think." The guardian offered him a lame smile.

The room he had brought her to was good for this purpose. As they became situated, he explained their new bearings. Far from Sliske and Azzanadra, they were secluded below what would be the beginnings of a small lake on the overworld, the interstitial resting place of the River Salve.

He gestured to a large platform, weathered stone from the original temple that had survived the ages, and she stepped on to it. "You must allow me a few moments to pinpoint its location within you. Please, lay down." She did, easing backwards until her back was flush. Her fingers fidgeted among one another as she stared at the ceiling, ankles restlessly turning. "Do I have your permission to proceed, Felix?"

"Let me guess." She twisted a bit, pushing a foot into the floor to spy at him. "You need my consent to continue?"

He contemplated the lie. "No," Zaros admitted, amused.

Strangely that seemed to make her more comfortable.  _Perhaps I am old-fashioned._  The guardian took a long, deep breath and made a show of exhaling it. Her body relaxed a touch. "Okay, go for it."

The process was invasive. Gathering what he could sense of her spirit, he sifted through various memories. There were many fearful nights and tender sorrows. The god did his best not to get too close to them.

Long minutes of diligent examination passed before Zaros found what he was looking for, tucked away behind pain and heartache.

He balked at what he was perceiving.

"That is-- not ideal." Fluctuating, he attempted to modulate his voice after the fact. But as her eyes opened slightly, a faint glow beyond the dark brown of her irises, he could tell she had heard the slip. He removed his pondering force from her and waited for her to speak.

Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around her knees and spun carefully to face him. "How long have I got, doc?" An interesting expression. She was afraid.

_Well, I cannot absolve you of fear._

"You are not dying." Zaros continued briskly as she sat a little taller. "I am no longer certain that I can unbind you."

 

* * *

 

"Do you speak to him that way?"

His friend's violet eyes were wide with fury. "Your attempt on his life will not go unpunished," Azzanadra whispered evenly, hands splayed across the table. "No matter what he has ordered of me, I will see you pay that debt myself."

They truly were not getting on very well at the moment.

The teapot lay smashed on the floor a short distance away, and Sliske guarded his cup with a dramatic shoulder. "Oh, I think I've been punished alright," he replied darkly. "Have you ever lost part of your soul to a person hellbent on your annihilation, but without any passion to lift the ax? I am in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction, Azzy--"

Palming the table with ease, Azzanadra pushed it away in a hard scrape, teeth bared as they both shot to their feet. "You were the first of his servants! Did you never truly care? I knew you were a fickle friend and somewhat of a bastard, but to _kill him?_ " He slapped the cup from Sliske's hand and it joined the teapot in pieces. "I cannot ignore it."

Sliske wheezed with laughter, an ugly hitch that rose from his chest. "Would I honestly ever _attempt_ an assassination? Come now. You know he would have been fine!

The brilliant glow of blood magic coalescing in his shaking fists was Azzanadra's only answer.

 

* * *

 

The ceiling consisted of packed earth, a none-too-gentle reminder that the underground temple was hardly code compliant. Around her shelves filled with scrolls in various states of decay helped to hold up the compressed dirt, and she gripped the stone beneath her the same way she imagined those wooden planks pried tension into the ground.

"So I'm stuck with it?"

Felix had been struck vulnerable. Somehow, the thought had never occured to her that this could be irreversible.

_Is this room shrinking, or am I just having an anxiety attack?_

A small ache started to gather behind her forehead, and she longed for the whole day to be a bad dream.

"The process of removal could be... permanently disfiguring." She winced, and he continued. "It is nearly inextricable at this point. You will have to decide whether it is worth the risk."

_Gods. That's... that's just great._

Zaros laid a hand on her shoulder. "Satisfy a curiosity of mine."

His inhuman voice demanded she comply. The compulsion hit her and glanced off. She wondered if he had any control over it. "Are you going to ask anyway?"

"I had considered not," he stated seriously, reverberant in the small space. The god indicated a direction, and she gleaned from the pull in her chest that he meant to address the issue of Sliske. "He is a liar. He has tried to kill us both. Why have you chosen to align yourself with him? Even in your desperation, you must understand that it was a foolish choice."  
  
Felix hunkered down a bit, but his touch didn't leave her. "Is that a 'join me' question?"

It had slipped past her a few times, but she was absolutely certain this time that he sighed, a sound bereft of air but with all the emotion of a proper, tired exhale. "No, World Guardian. It is an 'are you alright' question."

A couple pricks of moisture made it past her eyes then, and her nose stung.

_Fuck. I'm just rolling in trust issues right now._

"I'm sorry," Felix said, feeling hollow. "He is, I know, and I haven't. We came here at his suggestion. I only wanted to fix this."

"Yes," Zaros said, cellar deep, contemplative. "I understand. But you did not have to bring him along."

_Didn't I?_

Trying to picture the water rushing above them, Felix met his unblinking stare. "Maybe I got a little carried away." He had no gaze to probe her with, and yet she felt examined, the purple covering on his head shifting as it tilted to the side. "I'm trying not to think about it."

Zaros withdrew himself. "I would advise you not to problem solve that way often."

She shot the god a look.  _He must think I'm a dolt._  Felix rubbed away the moisture on her face and sniffed. "I have a question of my own, Lord Zaros." Pausing, he waited expectantly. "Do you believe in love?"

His tone was resolute. "Of course."

"Oh." Felix eyed him curiously. "Are you... I mean, in a personal sense?"

"Yes." The god waved one hand over the other, summoning a small object. Dark and round, he placed it in her hands and curled them closed. "This could be of use to you later. For now, I think you should ask yourself the same." He made to leave.

She stared at him, and then at her hands. "That's it?"

Zaros gave her another long, empty look as he brushed the threshold of the corridor leading back to the heart of the temple. "Contrary to my first instinct, this problem is not a time sensitive one. I will be awaiting your decision about the soul. When you are ready, you may contact me through the communion portal."

Felix was learning a lot about his emotive nature today, eyes wide as he pointed at her. "May I offer a suggestion?"

Her eyebrows lifted, confused. "Yes?"

"You should not ask me to perform the extraction."

He left.

Somewhere out in the temple Felix could make out the noise of wet drips splashing against the surface of water. Her toes were cold in her boots, and she stuffed her fingers under her arms, strange disc cradled in her right palm.

She shivered there for a few moments, alone in a carved-out room deep below the Misthalin border.

 _At least I got a souvenir._ A horrible sound escaped her at the thought.

With her luck it would only be a few minutes before someone came barging in on her, but Felix let herself cry.

 

* * *

 

He found her quite by accident, beating a hasty retreat from the main arteries of the temple. She was curled up on a piece of Senntisten limestone, half awake and trembling periodically. Every possible section of her robe was stretched to tuck around her limbs, arms retracted in their sleeves. She huddled against herself like an animal.

" _Pestilentia!_ "

Sliske darted a glance at the door and chuckled.  _Oh, I really should keep moving._ Azzanadra was growing frustrated trying to find him, shouts and taunts cascading down the network of hallways he'd come from.  _I'd hate for him to level the whole cavern. And after he worked so hard, too._

It would be easier to move her like this. Felix was barely breathing as it was, head tucked deeply into her chest. He could simply gather her up and run.

She murmured something soft and low as he prodded her. Her eyes cracked open. Words from before rung in his head, phantoms.

"I ought to take note." Sliske pushed aside strands of wiry hair caught in her eyebrow, a forgivable intrusion. _Sweetheart._ She didn't appear to be very aware, eyes red and swollen. "Authenticity, my dear. There's nothing like it."

He leaned back when she pushed herself up, making a horrible face as her fists contacted the chilled limestone. "You ruined my life," Felix said, voice husky from shed tears and sleeping with her mouth ajar. 

"Flattering, but I've heard that before." The cold weight in his middle didn't mean anything. Felix was just being difficult, as always.

"Good," she rasped, "maybe you can help me decide what to do then." Her legs failed under her as she tried to stand.

Hungry for touch, Sliske caught her by the wrist before she could crumple. Her fingers clutched his sleeve for support. "Try to be objective." Her voice was mockingly bright behind it's stickiness, a lame parody of his own lilting jeer. "Should I kill you now, and spare myself the trouble, or let a god screw around with my soul?"

 _"Your_ soul," he questioned, laughing incredulously. "What happened to _my_ soul?" Hooking an arm around her, Sliske steered them down a tunnel heading well away from the temple, pausing each time she stumbled. 

Felix wouldn't answer him. He couldn't tell if she was angry or just didn't care to. "You don't know that killing me will fix anything. Give yourself one option more, at least," he said finally. They had come to the end of that section, a short dugout and some beaten tools laying here and there.

Sliske gave the wall one useless flick of a claw.  _Damn. Nowhere to go but up, I suppose._

As shadows rose at their feet he heard her murmuring again, just a few words. "What was that?" He turned her in his arms and held her fatigued face aloft, dark olive and ashen in the poor light. He bent his ear to her mouth, half joking and half anticipatory. 

"We'd never work out," Felix repeated quietly, staring. Her throat sounded closed off, raw. She looked an absolute mess. "Pointless to even think about it." A part of him was inclined to agree with her statement, but.

_How could I refuse the chance?_

Sliske shushed her. "Now, that's just quitter's talk." Darkness wrapped around them, his grin overtaken as he stroked her solicitously. "I'd say it's at least worth a shot." 

They disappeared from the far reaches of Azzanadra's improvised ant hill, appearing at the crest of a bank directly overlooking Mort Myre. On the other side of the river, finally. Shadows dissipated, replaced by the natural dim of midnight. The putrid air rolled over them and Felix started to wilt again.

He flinched when she grabbed aggressively at his chest for purchase and glared down at her.  _Feisty little fool._ "Just faint already--"

Her grip twisted him low enough to clear his height. The kiss was off, too desperate to be real.

If she intended to trap him, Felix was performing pretty gracelessly. He would've executed a far better plan.

Sliske sank into it anyway.

 

* * *

 

Zaros waited until his anger had subsided to approach him, head hanging toward the tiles with a bucket.

"He got away." On a knee, picking up priceless shards of clay with disgust, Azzanadra spoke tightly. "I hope I gave you an opportunity to help her."

The god contemplated his words carefully. "You did, but it was a waste. She is growing protective. If nothing changes, her soul will suffer immensely in the severance."

An unfortunate fate. But not impossible to overcome, if she was willing to utilize his gift.

Azzanadra dropped the last piece into his bucket and stood. "I'm going to take this to the exam centre." As he made to leave the god staid him, pressing the points of a gauntlet against the symbol hanging from his neck. Slowly, he lifted his pointed chin, violet eyes weighted.

"You may do so later," he whispered. His priest shuddered and Zaros pulled him closer. "At present, we have unfinished business."

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to the amazing RS community on tumblr for all the Zaronadra headcanons + a very special thank you to the person who calibrated a concept for the Bad Dragon Dot Com situation Zaros has going on downstairs, you know who you are.


End file.
